


FIC: Some Honey of His Own

by jagnikjen



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much makes his food parcel deliveries only to find a special friend in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Some Honey of His Own, Part 1**

Much loved Mondays. It was the day he and Allan made deliveries to Nettlestone. The day he made a delivery to Emma the cloth dyer and her little girl.

His pulse picked up speed as he approached the last cottage on the lane, although he did so at a rather sedate pace. He hadn't had much to look forward to for many years, but now...now he looked forward to Mondays.

A small face with large brown eyes popped into the window opening. When those eyes met his, the small mouth stretched into a big smile. The face disappeared from the window and a faint “Mama!” floated out to him.

Much smiled and stopped and waited.

A moment later, the door flew open and banged against the outside wall, and three-year-old Avalee came rushing down the path, arms open and reaching. “Much!”

Much set down the basket and held out his arms; the little girl jumped into them and wrapped her own around his neck and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

Much closed his eyes as joy filled him and threatened to overflow his body in the form of tears. But that just wouldn't do. He swallowed and blinked rapidly several times. “Hello, Avalee, how are you today?” he asked, the emotion making his voice a bit rough.

“Hungry,” she said popping her finger into her small rosebud mouth, her eyes meeting his.

The joy faded and worry filled him instead. “Hungry? Where is your mum?” Emma was an attentive mother and would never allow Avalee to be hungry for long.

“She's sweeping,” Avalee said around her finger.

“Sweeping?” he echoed. Oh, well...she's probably getting ready to prepare the evening meal, then. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Avalee shook her head and pulled her finger from her mouth. “Not sweeping. Sleeping.”

Sleeping? It was the end of the day, almost time for supper. And now that he took a good look at the tiny person in his arms, her gown was stained, her face and hands dirty, and her hair, normally a wispy golden halo of blonde curls, was matted to her head.

Fear rushed through him. He set Avalee down and picked up the basket. “Come along, Avalee, let's go check on your mum, and I will find you something to eat, all right?”

She skipped ahead of him, but dread slowed his steps.

He stopped at the threshold even though Avalee had disappeared inside. “Emma?” he called. “It is Much. I have your delivery....”

When there was no response, he entered and glanced about the small space. It wasn't much larger than the camp; maybe a couple dozen paces the long way and half as many across. Two of the three windows were closed tight and the air was mostly stale and laced with a familiar scent that he couldn't quite place.

The fire was out, thank goodness. But not a good sign at all. Then he spotted Emma on her pallet in the far corner and his heart skidded to a halt.

_Oh, no..._ “Emma,” he choked out, swallowing against the sudden dryness.

He flew across the room and dropped to his knees next to her, his gaze raking her from head to foot, although she was covered by a blanket from the waist down. High spots of color contrasted vividly with her pallor. Her dark brown hair was moist and tangled; damp tendrils stuck to her forehead. The top part of her gown looked wettish, as well, and clung to her body. She thrashed slightly and moaned. Much wrinkled his nose as the stench assailed him.

_Oh, mercy—no._ He slammed his eyes shut against the vision of wounded and dying men lying in the blood-soaked sand. Yes, he knew that smell...the smell of blood and rotting flesh. His stomach roiled and he swallowed back the bile.

But he was not in the Holy Land and Emma needed help. He shook his head to dislodge the haunting images and opened his eyes. He took a deep breath. With a gentle hand, he shook her shoulder. “Emma, Emma, can you hear me?”

She stilled and her eyes fluttered open, but barely remained so. Her brown gaze was glassy.

That was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. His heart beat faster now, in fear. “Emma, it is me," he said. "What has happened?”

“Much?” she mewled, unable to focus on him, fighting to keep her eyes open. “What’re doing ‘ere? Go 'way.” She attempted to turn away from him, but hadn't the strength, and could only close her eyes again.

His mid-day meal turned to a hard lump in his gut. “It is Monday. I come every Monday... What is wrong with you?”

He thought she'd enjoyed his visits. They'd developed a relationship of sorts. He thought. She'd seemed especially pleased to see him these last several weeks, and she almost always had a special treat for him; sometimes berries, sometimes a meat pie. Even offered him a small goblet of ale a fortnight ago.

But maybe it was just the delivery she looked forward to and not really him, and she was just rewarding the delivery man. His heart sank like a rock into his gut and he huffed harshly against the urge to cry.

Of course, it was not him. Of course, he had imagined something that was not there. He was a dreamer, after all. And he had started dreaming of...of...

He shook his head. Of course, he was stupid. Who would love a smelly outlaw like him?

“Avalee?” Emma asked weakly.

He looked at her. She was a beautiful woman with normally shiny dark hair and sparkling eyes and a full figure. She probably still loved her husband, who was not even dead a year yet; still grieved his passing. She wouldn't want the likes of a stinky unkempt man living on the wrong side of the law.

Well, it didn’t matter. Even if she had no feelings for him, Avalee must have a mother. She had already lost her father to the sheriff's guards.

“A-avalee is fine but hungry,” Much reassured her.

A frown wrinkled her brow. “My baby... I'm sorr... couldn't...” Her words were spoken in brief gasps of air.

“Do not worry. I will see to her, and then we'll see about you.” Much nodded decisively.

Emma closed her eyes again and turned her head toward the wall, which was to say that it barely moved at all.

Much watched the lone tear that slipped down her cheek and into her hair. Something was very wrong. Aside from the obvious, of course. But this was not the time to figure it out.

Now—what to do, what to do? Food for Avalee first and then they must go after Djaq.

Or Matilda.

Or both.

Or maybe he should go for help first.

But how long had Avalee been without a bite to eat? He knew what it felt like to be hungry. And surely finding the tyke a scrap of food wouldn't take too long.

He jumped up and looked about for any kind of food. Well, there was the basket he'd just brought. He dumped its contents onto the table and scrabbled to find something, anything he could give the little girl to tide her over. Grabbing a hunk of bread, he thrust it at her. “Here. Eat this. We must go.”

He grabbed her up and plopped her onto his shoulders.

“What about Mama?” Avalee asked from above Much as they hurried away from her home.

Much held onto her little legs, keeping her steady. “Your mum is sick. We are going to get help for her so that she can get better.”

He glanced up and down Nettlestone's main thoroughfare, but did not see any sign of Allan. Much huffed. Allan was probably laid up somewhere. Blast it. Fine time for him to disappear.

Much made good time back to camp despite the added weight, slight as it was.

“Well, hello there,” said Robin, smiling up at Avalee as Much hurried into camp. He looked at Much, brow arching over one eye. “Who's your lit—”

“Where's Djaq? I need Djaq.” Much turned in a circle, scanning the camp and the immediate vicinity.

“Whoa, what's the matter?” Robin asked, his amusement faded immediately.

“It's Emma, Avalee's mother. She's sick with some sort of fever. She needs help quickly. Robin...” Much said in a low, urgent voice, leaning toward him. “...she's bleeding. A lot. I don't know what from. I didn't look, but we must get help.”

“All right, Much,” Robin said with a nod, now all seriousness. “Djaq isn't back from her drop-offs yet. I'll go fetch Matilda. Take Avalee back home and tend to Emma as best you can.”

Much nodded. “It's the cottage at the far end with braided flowers on the lintel. ’Course, they are dead now, but...” It hadn't occurred to him until just then, but she must replace them regularly. How long had she been ill?

“We'll find it, Much, go on.”

“Right.” Much nodded and hurried off the way he'd just come.

~*~

Much slid Avalee from her perch as he walked up the path to the door. He hoped Emma was still alive. She must be... She had to be. If only for Avalee's sake. He knocked and then opened the door.

“Emma, we are returned,” he called, even though he didn't know if she'd actually hear him. But just in case she could, he didn't want to scare her. He went over and studied her. Her chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, and he released his breath. She lived. For now....

Robin said to tend to her, but how?

_Fever..._

Cool cloth on her forehead. Right.

Water and cloth, then. He glanced around but saw no water. Of course not. She'd been ill for who knows how long. He spied a pair of wooden buckets next to the door and called for Avalee.

“Come along, honey,” he said. “Let's go get some fresh water. Mum needs a cool cloth and you could use a washing.”

“A bath?” she asked, eyes lighting up.

Much faltered. A bath meant more than one bucket of water. And a large tub of some sort. But only nobles had bathing tubs. “I'm sorry, Avalee, no bath.”

The little girl's face fell even as Much remembered that as a cloth dyer, Emma would have large tubs or pots to soak her cloths. “Wait...a bath you shall have. But first we have to tend to mum, then the bath, all right?”

Avalee smiled and clapped. "Yippee."

Much picked up both buckets in one hand and held out the other to Avalee. She tucked her dainty hand into his meaty one and looked up at him. Her eyes were the color of the shiny brown chestnuts found at the very southern end of the forest and looked at him with such trust. He fought to keep his smile in place. What did he know about taking care of a child? A girl child, at that. He swallowed against the anxiety welling within him.

A short time later, Much had wiped Emma's face and neck and arms, and she seemed a little more comfortable. It was difficult to be too close to her—the odor was stronger and it brought back terrible memories. Memories of those he'd killed in self-defense and of Robin after he'd been attacked. Memories he'd just as soon banish than relive. He pushed them away.

He started a fire so he could heat the water for Avalee's bath and then cook supper. Maybe a nice stew with a thick broth. That would help nourish Emma back to health. He'd snuck a rabbit that he'd caught yesterday into the basket.

He dropped to a crouch next to Avalee. “Stay away from the fire, do you understand?” he asked, looking into her solemn brown eyes.

She nodded. “Mama says it is hot.”

“Yes, that's right. If you touch it, it will hurt you.”

“Ouchie,” she said.

Much looked at her and chuckled. “Right. We don't want any ouchies.”

After several more trips to the well, he finally had enough water for a bath and his stew. He dragged one of Emma's tubs into the room and filled it first with a bucket of cold water, then hot, and then cold until there was enough warm water for the small body.

“Your bath is ready, Avalee,” he called.

She ran over to the tub and began tugging her gown over her head.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, eyes widening. _Oh, dear..._

“Taking a bath.”

“B-b-but shouldn't you leave that on?”

“Mama always makes me take it off.”

Much knelt beside her. “Avalee, I am not your mama or your papa, and I understand why your mum would want you to remove your gown when you bathe, but for today, I need you to leave it on.”

“But why?” She looked at him with impossibly big eyes, and he thought he just might fall into them.

“Well, because...because...” _Think, Much, think._ “...it is dirty and it needs to be washed, too. And since your mum is sick, it might be nice if we washed it so she doesn't have to worry about it.”

Avalee shrugged and let go of her gown and then climbed into the tub.

Much sighed in relief.

Keeping an eye on Avalee, he dug through the basket he'd brought and pulled out what he'd need for his stew. He'd skinned the rabbit earlier, in between trips to the well, and it was already simmering over the fire and filling the small cottage with its tantalizing scent and masking the other. He dropped the carrot slices, turnip chunks, and onion rings into the pot.

“Oh, dear,” said Avalee after a time.

Much glanced over at her. “What's the matter?”

"I forgot the soap,” she said.

"Oh. Well, tell me where it is and I will get it for you.”

Avalee stood and pointed to the shelf above the table shoved in the corner. “In the crock.”

Much grabbed the crock and looked inside. “Ah. It smells lovely. A lovely soap for a lovely girl.”

Avalee giggled. “It is lavender,” she said. “Mama makes it special.”

He smiled at her. “Well, of course she does. A special soap for a special girl.”

This time Avalee laughed and Much's heart soared at the sound. What a precious little girl. Sudden longing pierced his heart. A child loved without condition, without judgment. How would it be to have that kind of love all for his very own?

“You are silly, Much.”

Much laughed. Yes, yes he was. Silly to think he was worthy of a great love. A love of his own. Of Emma's love or even Avalee's. He pushed away those thoughts, too. “Yes, sometimes I am. Now...do you like having your hair washed?”

She nodded. “But we do it last.”

Much nodded, too. “Very well. Is it time, yet?”

“Uh huh.” She plopped onto her bottom and, after taking an exaggerated gulp of air and holding her breath, she sank below the water.

“Avalee!” His heart stopped and he tried to grab for her, but she popped up again, dripping wet, her hair now plastered to her head. He exhaled in relief. “Oh, goodness, you scared me,” he exclaimed.

“I had to make my hair wet for the soap.”

“Of course you did…”

Drops of water glistened on her long dark lashes. She was a beautiful child, sweet and precious, and a sadness for her father washed over him. That he would never see his little girl again. Never watch her play or hear her laugh. Never comfort her when she cried over an ouchie.

Until recently, Much had never dreamed of having a family of his own. He'd thought maybe Emma liked him. Just a little, just enough to give him hope, but now he wasn't so certain.

But if Robin and Matilda did not hurry then Emma might also die, leaving little Avalee without her mother and dousing any spark of hope he might have left.

Where were they?


	2. FIC: Some Honey of His Own, Part 2 (of 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Djaq and Matilda work to save Emma, Much must care for three-year-old Avalee and finds he could get used to having a child in his life.

**Some Honey of His Own, Part 2**

“Much.”

He blinked, pushing the distressing thoughts aside. “Yes?”

Avalee held out the soap. “Mama always does my hair 'cause I get the soap in my eyes.”

He looked at the small lump of soap in her little hand and then back at her. “Um...of course.”

He took the lump and dipped it in the water and then began to rub it around on her sodden head. A bit of sweet smelling lather bubbled up and he inhaled, a sad sort of delight filling him. He would never smell lavender again without thinking of this moment—without thinking of Avalee.

“Careful of my eyes, Much.”

“Yes, of course, honey.”

“Why do you say honey?”

“It is a term of endearment—a special name you call a special girl.”

She giggled again.

“And you are golden and sweet like honey.”

“But not sticky,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis, droplets of water flying from her head.

Much chuckled. “No, not anymore, leastways.” He scrubbed her little head gently for a few more moments. “Time to rinse the soap off. How does that work?”

“Mama gets the big goblet and pours water over my head.”

“And what about your eyes?”

“I put my hands over 'em. Like this.” She fisted her hands and pressed them into her eyes. Then she pulled them away and looked at him.

“Very well.”

He gave the stew a quick stir before fetching the goblet and returning tub-side. He scooped up some water. “Are you ready?”

She pressed her fists into her eyes again. “Ready.”

Much poured several goblets worth of water over her, scrubbing a bit to help the water wash away all the soap. “There, I think we are done.”

She pulled her fists from her face and landed them on her non-existent hips.

“What now?” asked Much.

“A towel, please.”

“Right,” he said with a nod, going in search of said towel.

He returned and held it out to her.

She shook her head. “Mama opens it up and puts it around me and carries me to the cot so I don't make mud.”

“Well, that makes perfect sense.”

She stepped close to the edge of the tub and held up her arms. Much wrapped the towel around her soaked, gown-clad little body and lifted.

“Much!”

Much whirled around to see Djaq hurry through the doorway.

“Much gived me a bath,” Avalee said to the newcomer.

Djaq glanced down at the girl and smiled.

“What are you doing here?” Much asked.

“I saw Robin on his way to Locksley and he sent me. Where is the patient?” she asked even as she looked about the room and then headed straight for Emma.

Much turned, following her with his gaze.

Djaq felt Emma's forehead with the back of her hand. “She is very warm.” She pulled back the blanket and gasped. “Ya lahwy.”

“What? What does that mean?” It couldn't be good. In fact, he knew it wasn't good.

“Much, open the windows,” Djaq instructed.

He moved to do so, but discovered he still had Avalee in his arms. “What has happened? Can you help her?”

“I do not know. Much...she has miscarried.”

He looked from Djaq to Emma and back. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. “Wh-what? A miscarriage? She couldn't have. Her husband is...”

“Mu-uch,” called Avalee, drawing his gaze to her upturned face.

“Yes, honey,” Much said without thought. Emma had been with child. But how? And who?

“I am making mud, Much.” Her feet connected with his knees as she wiggled them.

“What? Oh. Oh, dear...” He glanced at the moist dirt and then carried her to the cot and set her down upon it. “I guess you need something dry to wear now, too.”

“In the chest.” She pointed.

Much pulled a gown from the small chest and gave it to her. “Do you need help?”

She nodded.

Oh, dear.

Wait, Djaq was here now. Djaq could help. “Djaq, can you help Avalee dress?”

“Me?” she asked, looking surprised.

“You are a girl, she is a girl...I am not.” Much raised a brow.

He saw understanding dawn on her face and Djaq smiled and nodded. She crossed to Avalee while Much scrambled for the windows and pushed open the dilapidated shutters.

Robin and Matilda stepped inside just then. Much looked from one to the other and relief rushed through him.

Now everything would be all right.

Until Matilda sniffed the air, a sour look crossing her face. “Sweet merciful Lady.” She was across the room in a flash.

Much followed her to Emma’s bedside.

She yanked the bed clothes off Emma and the putrid odor filled the air.

“Oh, my...my...” Much gagged and backed away, swiping a hand over his face.

The linens beneath Emma were saturated with blood and a pale blob—a tiny body—her baby—lay between crimson-stained legs.

“Damned quack,” Matilda exclaimed. “Get the girl out of here.”

“What do you mean, quack...?” Much asked in confusion.

“Whoever prepared this poultice included way too much tansy. It’s amazing she’s still alive, but there’s no way to know just yet if she’ll recover. There’s nothing to do but let it run its course. Someone will need to stay with her once we’ve gotten her cleaned up and settled.”

“I’ll stay.” Much turned to Robin. “Master, please let me care for her. She is... she is my friend. I-I-I...we are friends.”

Robin patted Much’s shoulder. “C’mon, let Djaq and Matilda tend to her first. Take Avalee to the camp. She does not need to see her mother like this. And you should not be here either.”

“But...”

“But nothing. Avalee is going to need you. Someone she knows and trusts to care for her.”

Much nodded. “What if... what if Emma...?” He could barely bring himself to think it, much less speak the words.

“I will bring the news,” Robin replied, gently pushing Much toward the door. “Go.”

~rh~

This time, the trek back to camp was not so easy. Worry about Emma made him clumsy. It was also darker and Much had to walk slower so as to avoid the many pitfalls of the forest floor. Avalee was cranky as well, wanting her mum and something to eat and to go back home.

Much was out of breath and huffing a bit as he staggered into camp. He lifted Avalee from his shoulders and set her on the ground. She slid an arm around his leg and stuck her finger into her mouth as she regarded the three other men.

“Where is Robin?” asked John.

“And Djaq?” asked Will.

“And who is that?” asked Allan, pointing to Avalee. “She's not really your type, mate,” he said with a guffaw.

Much sent him a dirty look. “This is Avalee, and Robin and Djaq are at Avalee's house tending to her mother, Emma.” He cupped the back of her head with hand and rubbed the soft curls.

“So what's for supper, mate?” Allan asked.

“You can eat tree bark, for all I care, mate,” Much snapped.

Avalee started crying.

Much was crouched next to her in an instant. “What's wrong, honey? Please don't cry.”

“I want Mama,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“I know, but Mama has a big ouchie, and Djaq and Matilda are trying to make it better. And they need room to work. So we are going to stay here for a little while. Now, shall we find something to eat?”

The little girl nodded.

“Do you like cheese?”

She nodded again.

“Good. Then we shall have some cheese and some bread and some nice cold water.”

Much gathered up the food and the water and led Avalee semi-close to the fire. He found a good spot carved into the ground by tree roots and sat cross-legged, pulling her into his lap. “Remember what we said about fire?”

“It's hot.”

“That's right. Now, here.” He handed her a chunk of bread and a hunk of cheese.

“Oi, wot about us?” Allan asked, waving a hand between John, Will, and himself.

Much looked up at Allan and was about to tell him to jigger off, but John spoke first.

“Much is busy tonight, Allan,” he said with understanding. “We are grown men, we can fend for ourselves for one night.”

Much's gaze flew to John's.

The big man nodded.

Much nodded once in return. Just when you thought you knew a person. John never seemed to like him or have much use for him and then he goes and sticks up for him. Huh.

With a grumble, Allan moved off to dig around in the larder, as did John and Will.

Much felt a little bad about not feeding John and Will. Especially John. He was a large man and probably needed more than bread and cheese to fill him up properly. But Allan... well, Much did not care so much about Allan. Least ways, not tonight.

“I want to go home,” Avalee said once she'd finished her bread and cheese.

“I know you do, honey, but it is dark now and too dangerous to walk through the forest. We could get ouchies from walking into trees or tripping over rocks and roots.”

“Ouchies?” asked John on a soft growl, a ghost of a smile playing around his bearded mouth.

“Yes, ouchies,” said Much, a tingle of embarrassment went through him. “Right, Avalee?”

She nodded but yawned and rubbed her eyes again.

“How about I tell you a story?” Much asked.

Avalee nodded, put her finger in her mouth, and settled into Much's embrace. If it were any other circumstance, Much could get used to this kind of an evening.

“All right, then. A long, long time ago, there was a man named Noah. And one day, God told Noah to build a big, big, big, and, I mean big, boat. All Noah's friends laughed at him because he started building this boat on land and far, far away from any kind of water. But that's what God told him to do, so that is what Noah did....”

By the time he'd finished, Avalee was slumped sideways, fast asleep, and Much's legs prickled from sitting in one position for so long with her weight on them. He couldn't even get up to place her in his bunk.

John finally had pity on him and relieved him of Avalee's sleeping form. Once Much regained the feeling in his legs and could actually walk again, he paced.

What was going on with Emma? How had she become with child? Why had she lost it? Was she going to recover? And if she didn't, what would become of Avalee? She was such a sweet little girl. Much could easily love her. Wanted to love her. Wanted to love Emma, too, and make them both his own.

But no one wanted him. To love him, least ways. And why should they? He was an outlaw. A smelly, dirty one, at that. He was only good for catching small animals and cooking them and keeping the camp clean. And mending socks with holes and tunics with rips and tears in them. And worrying about Robin. And talking.

But not good enough—not worthy enough—of love.

Much sighed. Well, whether Emma could or would love him made no difference. He would take care of her and Avalee until she was up and about again.

When the fire was nothing more than glowing embers, John said, “You must sleep. You won't do the wee one or her mother any good if you wear yourself out with worry. Let us hit the sack.”

Much walked the length of camp once more. How could he sleep when Emma could be dying or even already...

No. He shook his head; he wouldn't think it. He swallowed.

“Much,” said John, kindly but firmly, “go to bed.”

Much released another heavy breath and nodded, and followed John to the sleeping area. He rolled into Robin's bunk as Avalee was sleeping in Much's, her soft snores pulling a faint smile from him.

As he lay there, Much thought back to the first delivery he'd made to Emma and Avalee.

_“Hello, there,” Much called as he turned down the path and approached the now-inhabited cottage at the edge of Nettlestone. A woman was out front stirring a large cauldron of boiling hot something or other._

_She looked up, wiping the back of one hand across her forehead. Her brown hair hung in damp tendrils around her face and her sodden gown clung to her well-rounded form. She wore a wary look as Much neared. “Can I help you?”_

_He stopped. “I am Much. One of Robin Hood's men. I've brought a food parcel for you and your family.” He swung the burlap bag from off his shoulder and held it out to her._

_Surprise flashed across her face and she put aside her large stirring stick and came forward. “Oh, you are, are you?” she asked taking the bag and looking inside._

_“Yes...” Much’s friendliness faltered at her suspicion._

_Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him. “Well, how do I know you haven't poisoned this 'ere food?”_

_Much huffed indignantly. “Ask anyone in the village--they'll tell you. We come weekly. I'll be back next Monday. Unless, of course, you don't need the food. There are plenty of other families who'd love a bit extra...” Much half turned toward the village, pointing with his thumb._

_“Er... no, no of course. I've heard bit and pieces about you lot from the neighbors.”_

_Much nodded. “Well, good then. I'll be back.” It was as he'd turned to go that he noticed the small face in the window watching. The small chin rested on arms folded across one another in the ledge. She smiled immediately and Much was smitten. “Who've we got there?” he asked, glancing back at the woman._

_The woman smiled and was transformed._

_Much's heart thumped a bit harder._

_“That there's me little girl, Avalee. And I'm Emma, by the way.”_

_“Avalee and Emma. What lovely names.” He looked at Avalee and waved._

_The little girl lifted a hand and flapped her fingers up and down._

_Much hated to leave. Would have like to have stayed a bit longer, but had to get back to camp. “Yes, well...I'll be going then. And I'll be back next week.”_

Much was already awake as the first tints of light trickled through the trees. He'd gotten up early to make porridge for Avalee, John, Will, and Allan.  In order to make up for the lack of dinner the previous night, Much chopped up some dried apples and added them as a special treat.

He'd fallen asleep remembering his and Emma's meetings and had woken with a start, his heart pounding—dreaming that the gang was burying her while Avalee stood next to her mother's grave screaming Mama! over and over again.

“Mama!” Avalee's small voice rang out in alarm.

Much's heart stopped and he jumped up and then stood frozen.

“Mama.” Avalee called again, pulling Much from his fear-induced haze. “Much.”

He moved to get her.

“Much!” called Robin, striding into camp.

Much whirled around, his heart in his throat.

“I want Mama,” cried Avalee again.

Much turned back toward the little girl and then back to Robin not sure who needed his attention first.

Robin smiled sympathetically and lifted his chin toward the back of the camp where the bunks were. “Go on, Much. Emma is holding her own.”

Oh, thank the saints above. Much released a breath and hurried to his bed. “Good morning, honey.” When he picked her up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his middle. “We'll go to see your mum soon, all right. Let's have a bite to eat first, shall we?”

Much hurried into Emma's cottage. Robin had Avalee with him for the moment; he'd convinced her to pick some flowers for her mum, so they'd taken a detour to find some.

The cottage smelled infinitely better now than it had when Much had left the previous evening. A small fire crackled quietly in the pit. Bright sunlight spilled in through the open windows on the south wall and a pleasant breeze flowed through and then out the window on the north wall.

Snoring slightly, Matilda lay on the cot on which Avalee had changed the previous day.

Djaq sat against the wall next to Emma's pallet, her head leaning to the left and her eyes closed, legs strait out and crossed at the ankles. Her chest rose and fell in a deep even rhythm.

Much breathed a sigh of relief. Everything seemed better. It certainly smelt better. He crept toward Emma, trying not disturb her or Djaq.

But Djaq startled awake, her eyes wide when they met his.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “How is she?”

Djaq glanced at her patient and back at Much. “She is very ill, Much, I will not lie, but she is lucky you showed up when you did. Matilda thinks that Emma will recover, but we cannot be certain until she wakes up.”

Much nodded, but he shivered as cold dread filled him.

“She will need care, as will the little girl,” Djaq said.

“Well, I’ll do it, certainly.” Much nodded decisively. “If Robin will allow it.”

Djaq smiled. “If you are going to care for two girls then you are going to have to get over the fact that you are not one.”

Much nodded, less certain this time. “Right. Of course.”

“Where is Mama?” called Avalee as she ran into the cottage with a fistful of wildflowers.

Matilda started and sat up as Robin appeared in the doorway.

Avalee ran to her mother and dropped to her knees. “Mama, Mama, I sleeped at Much's house. Only it's not a house, it's a... it's a...” She looked up at him, the question in her eyes.

“It's a camp,” he supplied.

Turning back to her mother, Avalee said, “It's a camp. It's Much's camp.” She leaned over and peered at her mother and then looked at Much with disappointment on her little face. “Mama's still sleeping. When is she going to wake up?”

“Your mum had a…” How did he explain her mum’s condition? “…a very bad tummy ache,” he said with a nod. It would do and was something a small person could understand. “And Djaq and Matilda gave her some medicine to make it get better, but it also makes her sleepy. In a day or two, she won't need so much of the medicine and will start to wake up. I promise.”

After receiving his instructions from Matilda, everyone departed and Much was left alone to care for a sick woman and a little girl.

~rh~

Emma opened her eyes and looked about, panic filling her. How long had she been out of it? And where was Avalee? Was she okay? Emma struggled to her elbows to look around, but dizziness swirled about her, and she fell back to her bedding. Even that bit of movement sapped her strength and she breathed heavily.

Wait, what was that smell?

She sniffed again. Porridge of some sort. Who was cooking porridge? Who was caring for her and, hopefully, Avalee, as well?

Heavy footstep sounded and Emma turned her head to find Much approaching. Her heart thrilled to see him, but she forced herself not to show it. She was in his debt forever, but she could not continue to encourage his affections. She knew that now. She'd been foolish in entertaining the notion that she could change her lot. Or that she deserved happiness.

He smiled down her, his blue eyes full of surprise and joy and caring. “You're awake,” he said gently, kneeling next to her and placing a light hand on her forehead. “Fever's gone.

“You must be hungry, too. Let me get you some tea and some porridge. I think there are some currants left. Would you like that?”

She nodded. “Yes, thank you. Where is Avalee?”

“Avalee is still sleeping. Quite the little snorer, isn't she?” he said, amusement tainting his voice.

“Yes,” Emma said softly, but avoided looking at him. He was so sweet and handsome and his feelings were written all over his face.

She could hardly bear it.

She was certain he had volunteered to tend to her and Avalee. And if things had been different—if circumstances had been different, if she were different, she'd welcome the chance to get to know him and spend time with him. However, she already knew all there was to know: he was too good for the likes of her.


	3. FIC: Some Honey of His Own, Part 3 (of 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma confesses the truth about herself, much to Much's distress. Much comes to grips with Emma's actions and decides that life without Emma and Avalee is no life at all.

**Some Honey of His Own, Part 3**

Much was a good man. He was caring and funny. Honorable and gallant. Courteous and considerate. Loyal and sweet. Good looking. He had a bit of a stomach on him. But that didn’t bother her at all. She was rather roly-poly herself. That he seemed to find her attractive baffled her. He looked to be well endowed in the man department, as well, but she could tell he was more innocent than not when it came to that. And that thought pleased her. Blessed and lucky would be the woman who was fortunate enough to snare Much for a husband. But it couldn’t be her.

She didn’t deserve him.

“Much,” called Avalee from the cot.

He jerked his head toward the sound, joy shining in his face.

Emma’s heart broke. The pair of them had surely bonded. And the day she sent Much away forever would be hell for them all.

“Come here, honey, your mum is awake!”

He sounded just as excited as a child. And honey? He called her little girl honey?

That Much cared so much for her daughter made Emma love him. But he was too good for her. She had no choice. As soon as she could, she had to send him away. Tears spilled from her eyes.

“Mama, Mama!” Avalee cried, dropping to her knees next to Emma. “You are awake—why are you crying?”

Much’s eyes rounded as he studied her, worry marring his brow.

“Are you in pain,” he rushed to ask.

She shook her head and focused on her baby girl. “I’m happy to see you, Avalee. Happy to be awake and feeling better. I’m so sorry I left you alone—I didn’t mean to.”

“Is your tummy hurting anymore?” Avalee asked. She seemed none the worse for wear and for that, Emma would always be in his debt.

“Just a little,” she said. Only a dull ache remained, although the pain in her soul would soon out-hurt the pain in her stomach.

“Much and me taked care of you.”

Emma nodded and offered her precious daughter a small smile. She looked at Much, sadness welling within her. “Thank you.”

He nodded, and she could tell by the look on his face that he felt her distress, that he could tell something was amiss. But he did not ask.

The first couple of days after she regained consciousness blurred together in a cycle of sleeping, eating, and visiting with Avalee for short periods of time. By the fourth day, she remained awake more than she slept. But being around Much and trying not to enjoy his company was difficult. She arose from her bed to sit at the table and direct him as he dyed her cloth. But she refused to get caught up in his stories and conversation.

As the first week turned into the second, she could tell her silence weighed on him. He was not nearly as jovial as he’d been the first few days after she’d woken up. And now she was well enough, but weak. Strength would only come with resumed activity and work, but he would not let her do it. They were going to have to have a talk and soon. She had to get back to work for herself.

On the tenth day, as Much poured the last bucket of water into the large pot and then started the fire beneath it, Emma entered the yard at a snail’s pace.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

His face lit up. “Yes, of course.”

“Much, it is time for you to go.” She hated herself.

Surprise widened his eyes. “But why?”

“You must return to your friends, to your home, to your purpose. And I must get my life back. It is time I began doing my job again. I am so grateful to you for all you have done and I know I can never repay you, but you must go.”

“I-I thought we were friends, thought we were growing close.”

Sadness filled her and tears prickled her eyes as she swallowed the urge to sob. “No, Much, I’m sorry. It cannot be.”

“Please, Emma, I don’t understand. I care for you. I care for Avalee. In fact, I think I lo—”

“Don’t say it. Just don’t.” Her heart was breaking.

“But...” The expression on his face changed from earnestness to disbelief.

“Much, please. You must go and not come back. I no longer want to see you.” Liar.

The surprise and pain on his face broke her heart in two and she turned away so as not to see it. And to fight against her own overwhelming emotions. Dear, sweet, wonderful Much. She hated hurting him, but if he knew what she’d done, what she’d been, he would hate her more. It was better this way.

But better for whom?

She hardened her voice and said, “If deliveries are going to continue, then please have someone else bring them.”

Hurt, anger, disbelief, and sadness flashed across his face. She steeled herself against the searing pain of her own heartbreak. He deserved better than a prostitute.

He nodded and turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped.

~rh~

The days passed slowly. Avalee was cranky and whiny with Much gone. Emma’s own hold on her emotions was tenuous at best and she snapped at Avalee often.

Once she began her work again, her strength returned fairly quickly and for that she was grateful. Thanks to Much’s help, she hadn’t fallen behind on her orders.

Monday came and so did her delivery. But, as she stipulated, it was not Much. The young gangly youth with the thin facial hair dropped off her basket.

“Where is Much?” Avalee demanded of him.

Emma didn’t have the heart to scold her for that.

“He had to go to Clun, today,” said the young man.

Emma heard the regret in his voice.

“Tell Much to come back.”

He just nodded, glanced at Emma, and went on his way.

Emma found a quail in her basket later that afternoon and cried. She knew who was responsible even if he hadn’t been the one to deliver the basket.

The following week, the big unkempt man brought the basket.

“Where’s Much?” Avalee asked, unfazed by the man’s size or scowling demeanor.

“Much is in Barnsdale,” he growled.

“Tell him to come back.”

The big man nodded.

When she’d sorted through the goods in the basket, Emma found a couple of fish. She cried again.

The third week, the delivery was made by the young foreign woman.

“Hello, Djaq,” said Avalee. She apparently knew this one a little better. “Where is Much?”

“Much is in Locksley today.”

“When is Much coming back?”

“I do not know, Avalee,” the woman said, glancing at Emma. “I think there is a pear in the basket today. Do you like pears?”

Avalee nodded. “Please tell Much to come back,” she said and scampered off in search of the fruit.

“What did he put in the basket this week?” Emma asked.

“A rabbit.”

“But why? I have hurt him. I have made it clear that I cannot care for him.”

“Cannot is not the same as do not,” said the woman kindly. “And whatever the reason behind your decision, I think you give Much far too little credit.”

“It is not that. Much should have better. I have done things. Despicable things. Things that would hurt him. Things that he would not understand or accept. Things that would make him hate me. I would rather he hate me for no reason than know the things I’ve done.

“Much deserves someone cleaner, better, purer...”

With that last word, an understanding dawned in the other woman’s eyes.

“I think you give Much too little credit,” she repeated. “Doesn’t your God say that love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things, and that love never fails?”

Emma nodded.

“Then you are failing Much if you think that whatever you have done will change his feelings for you.”

~

Emma waited on tenterhooks all week. She’d asked Djaq to ask Much to deliver her parcel, although if he didn’t, she completely understood. Even if he hated her for it, he deserved the truth about her.

The following Monday, Much brought the delivery.

Emma burst into tears when she saw him. He almost dropped the basket to the ground in his rush to get to her.

“Emma, what is wrong? Are you feeling ill again? Please, you must tell me what’s happened.”

She swiped the moisture from her face with a sleeve.

“Much!” Avalee cried happily, running out the door and throwing herself into his arms. “Why did you not come before?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him.

“I’m sorry, honey, I had to go to the other villages,” he said, eyes closed, reveling in Avalee’s affection. She saw the love on his face, the joy. Emma’s heart ached for them both. She had done this, and there was a possibility she could fix it. For both their sakes, she had to try.

“I don’t want the other ones to come anymore. I only want you.”

He opened his eyes and regarded her solemnly. “Well, I’ll see what I can do, but Robin is the leader. I have to do what he says, just like you have to do what your mum says. Do you understand?”

She sighed. “Maybe if you ask nice and say please.”

Much nodded, offering her a sad smile. “I will do that. Just for you.”

Emma crossed her arms under her bosom and said, “Avalee, Mama wants to talk to Much for a little bit. Can you find your dolly and play quietly?”

“Yes, Mama.” She slid from Much’s arms and went in search of her toy.

“Much... I...” Emma swallowed. How did you tell someone the things she had to confess. “Your friend Djaq—she is a very good friend.”

She swallowed the smile that threatened at his panicked look.

“We-we are not that close. Djaq is like one of the lads, and anyway, her and Will seem to have an understanding.”

“Have I seen Will?”

Much shrugged. “I think he came the first week.”

“Yes, of course. Why don’t you sit down?”

He took a seat on the large boulder near her outdoor fire pit and rested his hands on his knees.

Emma nodded and took a deep breath. She had to do this. For Much and for Avalee. “Well... I wanted to say I’m sorry. I lied to you.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t speak. Just remained still and waited.

“When I implied that I could not, did not care for you, it was not the truth....”

He inhaled and exhaled a few times and crossed his arms before asking, “But why...? Emma, you’re pretty and you’re—”

She held up her hand. “Much, please,” she said softly, “this is hard enough already.” She fought the emotion that clogged her throat. She swallowed a couple of times and took a breath. “I have done things…

“Things I am not proud of... at the castle when I delivered the dyed linens.”

He just looked at her expectantly. He was so innocent... Her heart thumped hard under her breast.

“I visited the soldiers. For money.” There. She’d told him. She crossed her arms in silent defiance of his reaction. Surely it would be one of loathing and disgust. She deserved it, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

His eyes doubled in size, and if she weren’t already so afraid of his reaction, she’d think it funny.

He turned away and took a step and then whirled back to face her.

She held her breath.

“Wh-wh-what do you mean?” he asked.

By his tone she knew he’d not made an assumption. God bless him for that. Another reason why he was so easy to love. Not that she loved him. Yet. Well, not completely, anyhow. “I think you know what I mean.”

“Y-y-you...” Jumping to his feet, he raked a hand through his hair. He’d made the connection.

“I had sex with them for money.” She hung her head in shame. There was no way he would or could or should forgive her. No way he could still care for her after knowing this. If he was lost to her for good, she felt a measure of relief in having told him.

“For heaven’s sakes, why?”

“For Avalee,” she whispered, not looking up. “For my daughter.”

“It is a sad day in England when a mother must resort to, to, to...”

“Prostitution?” she offered, still not meeting his gaze.

“That… in order to support her family. I hate the sheriff and Gisborne and the soldiers and, and, and...”

“Me?”

He gasped. “You? Of course not. Why would I hate you?”

She looked at him then. “Much... I didn’t always hate it, at least not until you came along and...”

“What? What are you saying?” He shook his head in confusion, his eyes searching hers for answers.

“I am a woman on my own, Much. Sometimes, I get lonely. There were a couple of soldiers who were... tender. With them I could pretend for just a moment in time that things were good and right.”

“I... well...” He started pacing.

“Now, you must hate me.” But if this didn’t snuff out his feelings, then her next revelation surely would.

“No.” He shook his head, although his voice wobbled. “I cannot say that it doesn’t disturb me, but I can understand... I think.

“Wait...you said had and were.”

Emma nodded. “From about the third week of you bringing the food parcel, when things changed between us, just that little bit, I stopped. I hoped that something might happen between us, and I didn’t want to be... tainted anymore. I wanted to be worthy of your affection.

“And then a couple of weeks ago, I realized I carried a child. A child I could ill afford and most certainly didn’t want. I have no idea who the father might have been.

“But when I took the baby and almost took my own life as well, I realized that I wasn’t the woman you thought I was. The woman you deserve. And I don’t deserve someone as good and as wonderful as you.”

He looked everywhere but at her for a long time and her heart sank. He claimed he did not hate her, but if he could not even look at her then he certainly could not forgive her. Could not love her. Any glimmer of feeling he had for her must surely have been crushed by her last admission.

“You took your own child...?” he asked in disbelief.

“I am not proud of what I’ve done, Much.” She sniffed back the tears. She did not want to be the sort who manipulated men with crying, but the loss of his affection for her hurt more than she expected. “I told you why I did it and cannot truthfully be sorry for it. But I am sorry for that. And I regret not being the woman you could love—the woman you deserve.”

He nodded, swallowed. “I... well... I need to go. Thank you for being honest with me.” His voice cracked and her heart shattered into tiny pieces. She held on to her composure only long enough for him to disappear around the bend. She flew around to the back of the house and sobbed for all that she had thrown away and for what she had just stolen from her daughter.

~rh~

Much’s shoulders slumped in despair. So many thoughts flew around his head that he could not concentrate on any one. He’d cared so much for her just this morning. Was so excited that she wanted to see him. He was so sure of his feelings. He thought they could start over. But now... now he just didn’t know. He just hadn’t expected this.

Not after what she’d told him. He understood her reasons. He did.

He hated that she’d had to do those kinds of things in order to provide for Avalee. But he could accept them. Live with them. It wasn’t as if she’d been innocent anyway. As for her… enjoying it… he understood how that would happen, too. Sex was pleasurable, he knew.

It was the part about her unborn child. Until Avalee, he’d never thought of himself as a father. Or ever considered becoming one. But it confused him. How could that happen?

It was late when he returned to camp. Only Djaq remained awake, sitting near the fire with a blanket wrapped around herself and looking sleepy.

“Are you all right? I was worried about you,” she said softly. She patted the ground.

He shook his head even as he dropped beside her. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a good listener. Would you like to talk?”

“She… she… took her own child…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “How could she do that?”

“I do not know her reasons, Much, but I’m sure she had them.”

“She did… she said she didn’t want it. Couldn’t afford it. Not as a woman on her own with one child already…”

“It is hard enough here in Nottinghamshire with the sheriff, Much, what were her options?”

“She could have told me. I could have provided for her.”

Djaq smiled.”I'm sure you would have, but I think there is more to it than that, no?”

Much sighed. “There always is, isn't there?”

“I am no innocent, Much. I have done things that might make you think differently about me.”

“What?” He looked at her surprised. “No, not you. I know you. You are a good and smart and… and... pretty...”

“You think I'm pretty?”

Much's eyes widened and he cocked his head nervously to the side. “W-well, of course I do. But not like that...”

Djaq chuckled and patted his arm. “I know, Much. We all have had to do things, Much. Things we are not proud of. Things we felt we had no choice in doing. Do we love Allan any less for the lies he told to save himself? Do we love Robin any less for the men he killed in the battle field in fealty to King Richard?”

“But that was a matter of survival and duty and loyalty.”

“Yes, it was. But isn’t loyalty to oneself important too?” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Now I am going to bed. Do not stay up too much longer, else it'll be time to start the morning fire.”

He nodded. “I won't.”

Much wrestled with his feelings about Emma and what she’d done for three very long weeks. But he kept coming back to one of two things—he, too, had done things he was ashamed of and had to live with, and he’d come to discover that life without Emma and Avalee was a life he did not want to live.

~*~*~

The small cottage was a bower of blooms in preparation for the honeymoon. Marian and Djaq had taken Avalee out and collected several bushels of flowers and then decorated the cottage. Then the two women had helped Emma and Avalee prepare for the wedding.

Emma cried quietly as they did so. That they’d accepted her and forgiven her for the pain she’d caused Much was hard to believe. Not only was she unworthy of Much, but also of these new friends. But they’d all insisted that they each had something in their pasts of which they were not proud and that no one person was more or less worthy than another of love or friendship.

Robin had taken her aside one day and told her that forgiving oneself and accepting that bad thing was part of living and loving and accepting love. She so wanted to be loved. Mostly by Much, but also by these other good, honorable people. And Avalee deserved a father. Emma could think of no finer man in all the world than Much.

And Much; dear sweet innocent Much. He’d come to terms with her past, with her choices, with her actions. They’d started over with him bringing her delivery again each week. And they’d talked and talked and talked. And Emma knew that Djaq had been right. Emma had completely underestimated Much and the power of love. But she’d never had real love before so she hadn’t known, didn’t realize.

~rh~

Much rocked back and forth on his heels. He was getting married. Once, not so long ago he thought himself unlovable and unworthy. And now, now he was getting married. He was going to become a husband and a father in one fell swoop. His heart was near to bursting.

Robin stood next to him ready to perform the short ceremony, and the rest of the gang surrounded him. The villagers gathered around as well. Happy events were few and far between in Nottinghamshire, and Much couldn’t blame them for wanting to share in this happy day.

In fact, he was eager to share his happiness. He had never been so happy. Didn’t know a body could be so happy. He wished everyone, especially Robin and Marian, could be as happy. If he could onl—

Robin nudged Much and he forgot all about Robin and Marian.

Much looked to find Emma and Avalee framed in the doorway and his breath caught. Emma wore a pale yellow gown with her long dark hair down, just the way he liked it, and Avalee stood in a pale purple dress with a crown of purple and white pansies on her head, both had shining smiles on their faces.

His girls, his family...

Avalee scampered to Much and held out her arms. “Much, we are getting married.”

Everyone chuckled and Much scooped her into his arms. “Yes, honey, we are.” He settled her onto his right arm and took Emma’s right hand in his left. They turned to face Robin.

Marian and Djaq hurried from the cottage to join the rest of the gang.

Robin looked about and settled his gaze on the bride and groom. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of Much and Emma in holy matrimony.”

Turning to Much, Robin said, “Much, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to protect her and honor her? Will you love her, comfort her, and keep her so long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” Much said, squeezing Emma’s hand. He couldn’t wait to do all those things.

“Emma, will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to honor and love him, comfort him, and keep him so long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” Emma replied with a nod.

He was the luckiest man in England, nay, in the world.

“Then I, as the rightful lord of Locksley in the county of Nottingham, do declare you husband and wife. Much, you may kiss your bride.”

Heat crept up his face, but he smiled. He kissed Avalee on the cheek and then set her down. And finally he took Emma in his arms and kissed her sweetly.

The guests and onlookers cheered and clapped.

“Congratulations, my friend,” said Robin, clapping Much on the shoulder and giving Emma a small kiss on the cheek. “Welcome to our family, Emma.”

She laughed as tears of happiness trickled down her cheeks.

After partaking of the wedding treats, the villagers drifted back to their homes and daily routines, leaving just the gang and Marian. Marian indicated to Robin that it was time to go. Djaq and Will gathered up Avalee and took their leave, John and Allan followed behind them, and finally Marian and Robin also left, hand in hand, leaving Much and Emma alone.

Much took Emma’s hands and said, “So, my wife.”

“So, my husband.” A pretty blush colored her cheeks.

“We are alone.” Finally.

“And married.”

Finally. “Yes.” Much led her to their marriage bed.

**~ Fin ~**


End file.
